Rifts & Writers
by Spool the Pink Dalek
Summary: The Doctor was just taking a simple nap when...um...well, he doesn't really know either. This story was formerly titled "I Hate Rifts"
1. Must Be A Rift

The Doctor had no clue where he was

The Doctor had no clue where he was. He had been taking a nap on the TARDIS sofa, and when he woke up, he was…here.

He glanced around confusedly. He appeared to be in some sort of office, or studio, or something. He ran his fingers through his fuzzy hair and let out a huge sigh, thinking. How in the world had he ended up here?

Suddenly, someone came around a corner carrying a stack of papers and a cup of some steaming hot beverage. Once he caught sight of the Doctor, he dropped the papers _and _beverage.

"David?" he gasped, with an incredulous look on his face. "What are you doing here in your pajamas?"

"Pardon?" the Doctor said. He looked down and saw that he was, in fact, barefoot and in his pajamas, most likely from the nap. "Who's David?"

The man knelt down to gather the papers and the now-empty cup. "Don't be stupid," he replied, attempting to shake the rapidly cooling liquid off one of the documents.

"Okay…" the Doctor muttered vaguely. It must be a rift, he decided. He must have landed at a large space-time rift and that's how he was here. Weird things happened at rifts…

"I'll be right back," He finally said, and spun around. Once he was out of sight of the man, he narrowed his eyes at a wall and thought very hard about how he could get out of this mess. The wall didn't seem to spark any significant thoughts, so he stepped outside to see if that helped.

Suddenly, he heard a tremendous screaming noise and glanced up quickly to see a huge stampede of teenage girls running towards him, many of them waving pieces of paper or sporting cameras, all of them shouting with glee.

_Oh, no, _he thought. _Teenage girls._ Then, he was running for his life.

He quickly rounded a corner, vaulted over a very confused looking pedestrian, and dove into the nearest door. He rolled to the left, behind a counter, and cautiously glanced around it. He saw the rampaging teenagers pass by, trampling the occasional unfortunate who got in their way.

The Doctor leaned back with a huge sigh of relief, only to see he'd run into a science fiction convention. Some part of him told him that this was very, very, bad.

"David?" a familiar voice said. He looked up.

Rose was looking at him a bit confusedly. "What are you doing here in your pajamas?"

* * *

Heh…sadly, that's all there is. Maybe if you guys really, really, really bother me, I'll add another chapter…

-T.L.


	2. The Convention

* * *

The Doctor couldn't believe it. He stood to his feet, staring at Rose with a disbelieving look on his face. Finally, he managed to gasp, "What?"

Rose gave him a skeptical smile. "What do you mean, _what_? Why are you in your pajamas? Weren't you in normal clothes just a few hours ago?"

The Doctor furrowed his brow and stared at Rose like she was an alien (now that he thought of it, she technically was) , then repeated, "_What?"_ This was all so confusing.

"It's not really that hard a question, David." She said with a bit of an impatient air to her voice.

The Doctor opened his mouth to explain, but then saw a few people were stopping to stare at him through the glass window that looked out onto the street. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the stampede of girls start to turn around.

"Sorry, gotta go!" He said with an apologetic grin, and then took off into the crowd running as fast as he could. There was the sound of shattering glass behind him (obviously, the fangirls would stop at nothing to get his autograph) and several people in front of him saw the stampede coming and dove out of the way, leaping into bathrooms, side doors, and into other humans.

The Doctor was barefoot, and he wasn't entirely sure if that increased his running speed or not. It definitely increased his traction, but it had a drawback.

He stepped on something sharp.

He wasn't entirely sure what it was, but it caused him to draw his foot quickly off the ground. He lost his balance and careened off to the right, hopping the whole way, holding his injured foot and swearing loudly in various alien languages.

The stampede was coming upon him more quickly now. The Doctor had never dealt with this kind of mindless violence before, not in humanoids anyway, and he was frankly a bit frightened. Still hopping on one foot, he whirled around, took his sonic screwdriver out of his pocket, and held it threateningly towards the fangirls.

"I've got a dangerous sonic device," he warned, his voice fluctuating a bit due to the fact he was still bouncing up and down. "And I'm not afraid to use it!"

This had been the wrong move. The stampede still advanced ever faster, and the Doctor knew there was no escape this time.

He suddenly saw Rose just a bit to his left. Knowing he wasn't going to survive, he called, "Rose! Catch!" and threw his sonic screwdriver in her direction.

She caught it with a facial expression that essentially said, "My god, he's gone mad."

Suddenly, the stampede was upon him and everything went black.

* * *

I was originally just going to leave it at the last chapter, but then I realized I could have a bit more fun with the idea. Sorry it took me so long.

I'm rather liked Rose as a companion but I absolutely HATE the abundance of reunion fics or just plain shipper drabble. A few are all right, but mostly it just gets redundant. Whoa, sorry, I went off on a tangent there. What I'm trying to say is that this is supposed to be funny and, eventually, an adventure. And that, frankly, I don't really know what I'm talking about when it comes to the actors and who they are, I'm honestly not trying to offend anyone just in case I do.

Could you also please tell me any American-isms I might have overlooked? I'm American and, frankly, just a bit oblivious when it comes to what goes on across the pond…and there we go off on another tangent. I rant too much.

And if you'd drop a review on your way out, you'd make T.L. very happy.


	3. Swiss Cheese

Beep…beep…beep…

_Beep…beep…beep…_

The Doctor groaned. He opened his eyes to see a grey hospital ceiling and one very, very cross face staring down at him. Once he could focus, he realized that the face belonged to Rose. He started to say something, but then his head began throbbing as it never had before and all that came out was, "Mrrrmph…urk…"

"Bout time you were up," Rose said snappily. "What were you thinking?! Running around in your pyjamas, calling me Rose an waving stage props around! If I didn't know better, I'd think you'd gone mad!"

The Doctor raised one hand to his head and found it had a nasty bump in back of it. "What happened?" He finally managed to grumble, not feeling quite well enough to even comment on Rose's latest outburst.

"You were running from the fangirls," Rose began, a bit impatient.

"Yeah, I know that part…why'd I get knocked out?" He insisted with a small wince at the pain in his cranium.

Another voice explained for his former companion. He glanced over and saw a very serious-looking physician standing in the doorway with a clipboard. He was frowning so gravely that it was almost comical. "One of the fangirls bludgeoned you violently with a shovel and tried to drag you home with her. You were saved by a mysterious man in superhero costume who flew away afterwards. We haven't identified him yet."

The Doctor's jaw dropped. He had seen some odd things, and flying humanoids could mean some sort of alien invasion was imminent…he needed to look further into this matter. "What? He _flew away?_"

"No." the physician said monotonously. "I was just messing with you. John broke it up and got you out."

"John?" The Doctor asked, tenderly rubbing the bump on the back of his head.

"John Barrowman." The physician explained, as if he should know who that was.

"Right," he said slowly. Barrowman…John Barrowman…the name didn't really ring a bell. "Does he fly?"

The doctor just stared at him with his ever-intensifying frown.

Ten sighed, waved his arms in a _nevermind _sort of gesture, and turned to Rose. She was still glaring at him, obviously angry about before.

He smiled apologetically. "Yeah… sorry bout that." Apologies over with, he held out his hand and grinned. "Could I have the sonic screwdriver back please?"

"Lost it." She said with a shrug.

"You _what?_" The Doctor cried, swinging out of bed in a flash. His throbbing head forced him to sit back down. He sighed and turned to the scowling physician. "This will sound a bit spontaneous, but have you any Swiss cheese? You know, the strong kind with the holes? Fantastic on sandwiches, especially with…never mind, but I need some."

"Swiss…cheese." The medical doctor repeated slowly, furrowing his thick eyebrows.

The Doctor nodded. "Yes, Swiss cheese." When the glowering man showed no sign of realization whatsoever, he continued, "Oh, come on, you can't tell me you don't know what Swiss cheese is. Everyone knows what Swiss cheese is!"

"Why do you need aforementioned cheese?" the physician asked. His voice didn't even have a hit of skepticism, incredulity, or even confusion. It remained steady and droning.

"I can metabolise the proteins to cure the head injury_," _The Doctor explained patiently. He really wanted to get out of this hospital, though. He needed to go get his sonic screwdriver so he could find a way out of this abysmal place. What kind of world involved fangirl stampedes at every corner? Not one he wanted to be in. "Now be a good man and get me the cheese, will you?"

The physician backed away slowly, whispering something about Swiss cheese and an insane asylum to a passing nurse.

He turned to Rose, and said, "Look, I don't know what's going on here, but I don't belong here. Where'd you last leave it?"

"Leave what?" she asked.

"The sonic screwdriver!"

Before Rose could answer, the television in the room suddenly switched on by itself. Glowing eerily on the display was what might be described as a humanoid pile of rancid plant matter. The Doctor frowned, already trying to figure out what this was and why the television had turned on by itself.

* * *

That's all for now. I know the chapters are short, but that's how I build suspense.


	4. The Talking Compost Pile

The television, turned on by itself, was now displaying a very fuzzy image of what looked like a pile of rotting plant matter. It seemed a bit random, to say the least.

The Doctor and Rose stared at the compost pile on the screen with confused expressions on their faces, when suddenly, the compost pile began to speak "Is it on?"

"Huh?" The Doctor said to himself, not exactly sounding like the most intelligent being on the face of the planet.

"Yeah. Go 'ead." Whispered another voice, presumably behind the camera. Then, Ten realized the compost pile was talking to someone off-screen.

The compost pile emitted a sound as if it were clearing its throat, then whoever was behind the camera cried, "Wait, wait, stop, stop, it's not on."

"You just said it was!"

"I was wrong…hold on…hold on…"

Then the visuals cut out and the set emitted nothing but static.

"Hm. That was…odd." The Doctor managed to choke.

Rose was still staring at the blank screen with an expression that had _WTH? _written all over it.

Suddenly the visuals came back on. The compost pile was shouting, "You great big oaf! Are you saying I started giving the speech and the camera wasn't even _on?_"

"Sorry, sorry, these camera-bobbers are still new to me!" The camera operator cried back. "I'm pretty sure it's on now, though."

"Are you _positive?_" Growled the compost pile.

"Not really." Came the sighed reply.

"Call me back when you're _positive!" _

"All right, it's on, I'm sure of it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Absolutely positive?"

"Yep."

"Super-cali-fragilisitc-xpiali-docious?"

"That's not even a word, sir."

"Don't correct me! Now, can we begin?"

"Yes sir."

"All right." The compost pile cleared its throat again, then started in a very deep, threatening voice,

"Doctor." It boomed, "We have found you. You may have tried to hide in this universe, and might have succeeded, for David Tennant is not a very easy name to locate. All your Earth 'search engines'" (it said search engine with a certain hint of scorn) "came up with was a bunch of pictures of you."

"Er…David?" Rose whispered. "What's going on and…um, what is that?" She pointed at the screen.

"Not really sure what's going on," the Doctor replied quietly, "But_ that_ appears to be some sort of alien life form, and by the looks of it they're not very sharp."

"Understatement of the year," Rose muttered. She was _definitely _going to call an insane asylum after this, or at least one of David's old acting coaches to give him a lecture about how he taught students to get into character.

"In case your inferior mind did not comprehend this already," The compost pile continued, "We need you for reasons we cannot outline here, mainly repairing our ship. Should you refuse, I would like you let you know that I have leverage."

Ten's eyes grew dark and focused. He was angry, and to tell the truth, a bit afraid. Who had they taken? Martha? Donna? Sarah Jane?

"Who?" he snarled to the television. "Who've you got?" He didn't quite comprehend that the electronic couldn't hear him.

The compost pile grinned, if that was even possible for a blob of rotting matter. It held up the sonic screwdriver. "We have the thing you most hold dear!" It cried, stroking the device. "If you do not assist us, she will be annihilated! Then, once you're done and we have tricked you into thinking we are peaceful, we will blow up the Earth for no apparent reason!" It laughed, not really realizing exactly how dim it was.

"All right." Rose hissed at him through gritted teeth. "If you do not tell me _what _is going on _this instant _I will _personally _hand you over to the ravenous fangirls!"

The Doctor winced at the thought of ravenous fangirls, but had a slightly amused look on his face as he explained in his usual way; "Apparently these aliens want me to repair their ship. And they're holding my sonic screwdriver hostage."

"Aliens? Are you saying these are actually _aliens?"_ Rose asked incredulously.

"Blimey, you're _much _different than I remember. Yeah, aliens. What, you don't recall?" He grinned at her. "Don't know who this race is, but they're certainly a bit misled." Then, he realized something, and suddenly shouted, "A compost pile?"

Rose seemed taken aback. "What?"  
"You gave my screwdriver to a talking _compost pile?_" he cried, staring at her.

There was the sound of someone clearing his throat from the doorway. The Doctor turned to see the frowning physician, standing sternly just inside the entrance and holding a piece of Swiss cheese in his hand. Ten realized he had probably come in during the "They're holding my sonic screwdriver hostage" comment.

_Great, _he thought. _That's just what I need._

The physician handed the Doctor the cheese, which he practically inhaled, then said, as if speaking to a small child, "Now, David, there is a man outside who wants to speak to you. He is holding a very large needle, don't let that frighten you. His friend will take you to a nice place where they'll make you better…"

The Doctor, who was already over his headache because of the cheese, swung out of bed. "Sorry, mate, I may be odd, but I'm not stupid." He paused, thought, and continued, "Tell you what. Let me save the planet and then you can take me to the loony bin. All right?"

The physician seemed taken aback. Ten grinned, patted him on the back, raved, "Good man, good man!", grabbed Rose, and made a run for the door.

A man in a white coat holding the hugest needle he had ever seen lunged at him, but Ten deftly spun out of the way (sending a very confused Rose temporarily flying up into the air, as he had a death grip on her wrist) and shot out the door.

* * *

This fic has been a huge accomplishment for me. I haven't written very many of them, yet this one seems to be widely liked. This has officially become my first successful fic _ever, _and I wanted to thank everyone who's dropped a review and given me feedback!

-T.L.


	5. Discussion in the Alleyway

I am SOOOO sorry the update took me so long. I've been a bit preoccupied _and _I had a nasty bout of writer's block last week. Anyway, I'm back and have been cured of my block! Hope you enjoy the new chapter!

Forgive me if my humor's a bit off, by the way. I need a chance to get back into gear.

Once again:

I do not own Doctor Who.

I don't mean to offend anyone with the way I portrayed the actors.

-T.L.

* * *

The Doctor swung around the corner and into an alleyway where he knew he'd be able to escape from the angry psychiatrists. He was attempting to hold back a smile as he ran. The running he was good at: but the smile just wasn't going to give up.

He laughed at the wind through his hair and Rose attempting vainly to keep up with him. _Just like old times, _he thought gleefully. _I missed this bit._

Suddenly, someone grabbed his shirt collar and his laughing turned into a surprised, "Whoa!" as he was pushed back against the brick wall of the alleyway. He was cornered between four inches of solid cement and…Rose. Somehow she'd managed to get in front of him and force him against the barrier.

"Rose?" he muttered.

"Listen, David," She growled. "I dunno what's wrong with you lately, but you've got to stop it! It's not funny!"

"What's wrong with me?" The Doctor couldn't help asking.

"Everything is wrong with you! The behavior, the pyjamas…and the accent! Especially the accent. And what was the deal with the cheese back there?"

"What's wrong with my accent, Rose?" Ten cried, hurt.

Rose begun answering, but she seemed to realize something and shouted right in the Doc's ear , "I'M NOT ROSE! I'M BILLIE, YOU NUT!"

Ten tilted his head. "That's bizarre," he commented as he tried to wriggle away from her iron grip on his shirt collar. "You look just like her."

"That's because I am her!" she yelled, not letting go.

"I thought you just said you weren't," The Doctor said, even more perplexed. He was also beginning to feel a bit claustrophobic.

"I'm an actress!" She cried, and Ten realized that she was stronger and taller than he had formerly thought. His feet were no longer in contact with the pavement.

"An…" It took a moment to clock, but finally it did and the look in the Doctor's eyes changed completely. "Oh. _Oh._"

Billie nodded.

"You're…_oh!" _The Doctor groaned, looked up at the sky, and screwed his eyes shut. "Stupid, stupid, _stupid!" _

Now it was Billie's turn to be perplexed. "What?" She let him down to the ground and he immediately started pacing back and forth.

"Thick. So thick. How could he have been so thick?"

"DAVID!" she growled, trying to snap him out of it. "What are you talking about?"

Ten looked up. He was obviously very frustrated. "You know a bloke by the name of Russell Davies?"

"Course." Billie said with the accompanying, _What, and you thought I didn't? _look.

"Well, so do I. Interesting chap, a bit dark, traveled with him for a bit."

Billie was completely dumbstruck. "_You _traveled with Russell T. Davies?" she gasped. Suddenly she wasn't in the real world anymore. David's acting fever had spread: she was completely in the moment, filming a new scene. She was Rose Tyler.

"Yeah, long time ago." The Doctor said, running his hand through his hair. "See, he was a citizen of this planet called BBC…"

"The BBC is from a different _planet?!" _Billie cried. This was all such a shock. How had something like _that _gotten under the public's nose?

"No, BBC is short for Big Blue Capsule. They thought the full name sounded daft, so they abbreviated it to BBC." The Doctor explained, as if it were obvious. "Anyway, I went to the BBC many, many years ago and ran into Russell. Ended up traveling with him. After it was all said and done, he realized it would be a _fantastic_ programme. I told him not to, it'd be a bad idea, but he didn't listen and went and created it anyway."

"But Russell didn't create the programme," Billie pointed out. "Sydney Newman did, I think."

"Bah," the Doctor grumbled. "The two were mind clones. Telepathically linked. Both from BBC. Did I mention that people from BBC are telepathic? Endlessly intrusive, too. Only traveled with Russell for a few weeks, but he got my head and took a lot my memories."

"But those two didn't write all the episodes…" Billie sighed.

The Doctor gave her the, _Isn't it obvious? _look and said, "All writers are from BBC, didn't you know that?"

"Are you saying that all writers are aliens?" Billie asked incredulously.

"Course." The Doctor huffed, "Why else would they do what they do?" Then, he continued ranting about how stupid Russell had been. "He could have ruined everything! Thick, so thick!"

"Who's thick? I hope you're not talking about me," came a voice (with a distinct American accent) from the mouth of the alleyway. Both people looked up to see Jack, leaning against the wall.

"John," Billie sighed, rather glad she'd been snapped out of her 'moment'. "What are you doing here?"

"John?" the Doctor asked. It looked like Jack to him. "The same one that saved me from those fangirls? Two encounters in the same day, that's an odd coincidence."

"I'm not following you, if that's what you think," Jack said quickly, his eyes shifting from side to side.

Ten blinked at him, then appeared to shake it off. He glanced at Billie with a sudden sniff, like he did when he was storing ideas in his mental bank.

"Right," he said determinedly. "My screwdriver."

He turned and left the alleyway, pausing at the other end to shout, "Aren't you coming?"

Billie and Jack glanced at each other, shrugged, and followed. The psychiatrists had to catch up _eventually._


	6. Kidnapped!

The Doctor strolled along easily. Billie and Jack followed him, the former informing the latter about the events of the past few hours.

"Now," Ten called back to them. "I believe I know what we're up against. They're called the Extuph," he paused, checking his pronunciation (he always fudged up the fact that the 'ph' was pronouced like it was in 'phone'), and continued, "They're exactly what they look like."

"Sorry," Jack piped up. "But…what do they look like, exactly?"

The Doctor spun to face them, walking backwards. "Piles of compost, of course. Well, piles of compost that talk. Well, piles of compost that talk…and fly spaceships."

"I understand completely," Jack said sarcastically. He pretty much agreed with Billie: David had gone completely mad.

"Wait," Billie cut in. "Did you say Extuph? Like Ex-stuff? Because it's compost?"

The Doctor looked thoughtful. "Actually, that's a good point. I hadn't though of it like that before." He shrugged.

Jack glanced around. David was leading them against the flow of the walkers on the street and several of them grumbled at him. Despite the fact he was walking backwards, he never broke stride or even looked to see where he was going, nor did he run into anyone.

Suddenly, he stopped so abruptly that Billie and Jack ran into him. He hardly noticed: he was staring at a display of television screens in the window of an electronics store.

The announcer was speaking, but the glass prevented them from hearing her. The Doctor saw, however, that there was a picture of himself on the screen.

"Why am I on the telly? I'm never on telly." The Doctor muttered, but a bit loudly. Several Londoners stopped and gave him very odd looks. He furrowed his brow and went inside.

The first few words of the announcer's sentence were drowned out by a whoosh of air and a blast of street noise, but the door slammed shut behind Ten and he was immediately listening. "…kidnapped. A note, stating that Earth would be left alone if he was not searched for, was found at his residence just minutes ago. The police are searching the premises but have found no trace of the actor."

"What? You were kidnapped?" said a voice, very close to his ear.

"WHOA!" Ten shouted, jumped a meter into the air, and whirled around with a terrified look in his eyes.

Billie and Jack were staring at him with the _He's a looney_ stare. The Doctor mentally noted that he would shorten that to _the look._ He wondered why he hadn't done that ages ago.

"Sorry," he said, "Didn't realize you'd come in." He dusted himself off and regained his composure.

"That was out of character," Billie commented, still with _the look _on her face.

"Not really." The Doctor disagreed. "I expect Russell cut out some things when he filmed."

"Um, David," Jack interrupted, also wearing _the look_. "I've got a question. If the show is based off some things that actually happened, then how the hell did our alien of a writer find actors that looked exactly like the real people?" He was honestly trying to get David on the right track: nobody would be happy to see him in a sanitorium.

The Doctor gave him one of his, _Isn't it obvious? _looks and explained, "Not that hard, really. Cloning."

_The look _that Billie and Jack were both wearing intensifyed by a thousand.

"Are you saying we're _clones?_" Billie cried.

"Hardly," The Doctor scoffed.

"You just said we were!" Jack growled.

"Look," the Doctor said, giving them both desperate looks. "It's really, really hard to explain."

"Try us." Billie snapped.

Ten took a deep breath, then said without inhaling, "RusselltookmycompanionDNAdatabaseandusedaDNAcascadeevicetoputthepatternsintotheairandcombinedthemwithyourcurrentDNApatternsbutonlythepartthatmakesyoulooklikeyoudosotechnicallyyou'reaphysicalclonebutnotreallyaclonebecausewelleven thepeoplefromBBChaven'tperfectedthatyetandsotheycombinethecascadeDNAwithyourownDNAtocreatealookalikethatalsolooksliketheparentsanditsortofgoesalongthelinesofthedimensinallytranscendencentthingjustwithcloning does that make sense?" He stopped and stared at them, hardly even panting.

Billie and Jack stared at him, completely dumbstruck.

"Nevermind," the Doctor sighed, returning to the screen, shaking his head and furrowing his brow. "Who are they talking about? Who was kidnapped?" His voice went a bit squeaky when he said 'who', as it usually did when he got excited.

His comrades continued to stare at him.

"Hello?" he called, trying to bring them back to the real world.

Blank stares.

The Doctor sighed and looked back at the television. Something about this wasn't right. The actor…whoever he was….had vanished without a trace. And the note had said that Earth would be left alone…Earth? That meant alien involvement. Suddenly, something clicked.

He wheeled around and glared furiously at the store clerk. "Who am I?" He bellowed.

The clerk reeled backwards, then gaped at him. "What?"

"WHO AM I?" The Doctor repeated, not any louder but twice as dangerously. "It's important. I need to know! The future of the Earth is at stake!"

"D-david Tennant…" the clerk stuttered. The Doctor nodded: obviously his face was very well known.

The clerk continued. "And…we're in London, it's 2008…" he got a silly grin on his face, an idea igniting behind his eyes. "You're also my indentured servant and you work at this store pay-free to repay a debt you owe me from back in the 90's. Remember?"

The door to the store was already swinging shut.

The clerk sighed in disappointment.

* * *

Right. Just so everyone knows, I'm changing my penname within the week to "Pax E. Conbryo". I just recently found out T.L. Hawke was a MASH character. Or is it? Anyway, I wanted to change it so something more me. Again, I WILL NO LONGER BE T.L. by next week. Don't be freaked out when suddenly someone named Pax is plagarising this story, because she's not. Thank you all for reading!


	7. The Doctor, Car Thief Extraordinaire!

The Doctor walked quickly, his coat flowing out behind him. He had a very determined look on his face and two very confused thespians tagging along.

"David," Billie called to him, "If Russell's an alien like you say, then how on earth did he come up with John's and my characters if he never met us?"

"Easy," the Doctor sniffed. "He broke into the TARDIS. Forgot to take away his key."

"Look, David, there is no TARDIS." Billie sighed. "You're not the Doctor!"

The Doctor ignored her. He stopped and faced them, forcing many people to change direction and walk around him. "First step," He began. "Is finding out where I live."

"First step to what?" Billie muttered.

The Doctor seemed not to hear, and continued absently, "_Well_, not me, the person everyone thinks I am. So, where do I live?"

"Why would we know where you live?" Jack asked. "I'm not _that _creepy."

Ten ran his fingers through his hair and was about to say something when something caught his attention. Firstly, the ground was shaking, and secondly, several people further down the street seemed to be running for their lives.

"Fangirls," He muttered darkly. Then, he had an idea.

Jack and Billie were looking just a bit frightened, but Billie for one was wondering why David wasn't more scared than he was. Everyone knew he had a rabid phobia of fangirls.

The Doctor stood his ground as the stampede advanced. Jack was, by now, urging him to start moving, but he stayed fast.

The stampede advanced, and he could tell they'd caught sight of him. He simply stood, waiting.

Now, this messed with the fangirls' world, their conception of everything. David always ran, or hid, or something. Having him just…stand there took the fun out of everything.

"DAVID!" Billie cried. "They're going to trample you! Get out of the way!"

Ten frowned and continued to wait. Just as the stampede appeared it was going to flatten him to the dust, or at least surround him and ask him for an autograph, it stopped.

One of the fangirls at the front of the crowd gave him a curious look. "Why'd you stop?" She asked.

"Because," The Doctor said, with a very intense look. "I have a question."

"Okay," The fangirl said cautiously. "What?"

"Where do I live?"

There was a shocked silence, and then every single fangirl in the crowd started shouting addresses. It was a bit hard to figure out what they were saying, but they were all shouting the same thing. A few were even shouting directions.

"Thank you, be seeing you, bye." The Doctor called, waved cheerily, and vanished into the foot traffic along with Billie and Jack.

There was a moment of astonished quiet in the fangirl stampede, and then they muttered disappointedly and went home.

* * *

"Right," the Doctor said. He was jogging at a brisk pace. "Anyone have a car nearby?"

"Yeah," Billie replied cautiously, "But really. This is getting out of hand."

"Where is it?" The Doctor asked, stopping at a crossroads and glancing around.

"Half a mile that way," She said, pointing to her right.

"Half a mile?" The Doctor groaned. He seemed to consider for a moment, then immediately stepped forward towards a nearby parked car. He took his sonic screwdriver out of his pocket and pressed it against the lock.

"David, Jack warned, "David! You can't steal a _car_."

"Try me," The Doctor grunted as the door popped open. He slid behind the wheel and used his screwdriver to start the vehicle. He leaned out the window and grinned. "Come on, then."

Billie and Jack stared at him again.

"Are you coming?" he asked.

"No, I'm not coming," Billie scoffed. "This has gone far enough! I've followed you around London for an hour, but I will _not _get into a stolen car! Especially a Mercedes!

"Jack?" The Doctor asked.

"It's John," Jack sighed, "And I think I'm staying here."

The Doctor let out a disappointed breath. "Suit yourself." With that, he put the car into reverse, backed off the curb, and tore off down the street.

Both Billie and John watched him go, shrugged in unison, and headed home.

* * *

Half an hour later, Russell T. Davies came out of the electronics store carrying a very heavy appliance and headed towards where he'd parked his Mercedes. As he approached the spot where he'd parked it, he got the increasing sense that something was wrong.

He put down the appliance to get out his car keys, when he realized that something was indeed very, very wrong.

"Where's my car?" He bellowed.


	8. Temporal Transporter Paper Thingy

* * *

Here we are, the next chapter. I've been updating like crazy, haven't I? Anyway, here it is. Again, I know the chapters are short...my chapters are always short. I can't keep interested if I write long chapters.

Oh, and remember, I'm changing my penname...probably today.

And to all my American readers, happy Fourth of July! And for all my non-American readers: have a good July 4th anyway! No reason you can't...D Actually, it's not quite the Fourth yet...but chances are, I won't be on tommorrow.

* * *

The Doctor stepped carefully around the little stand-up cards the police investigators had put up as 'evidence'. They were obviously taking this whole kidnapping business very seriously. Luckily, there was no one there at that moment, but he had to move quickly.

He slid around a door into a bedroom. He glanced around and saw a huge sheet of pink construction paper on the bed. Written on it, in shaky, scrawly letters, was this:

_Deer Earth,_

_We haf kidnaped the doctr. He wil bee returned to yu and the Earth wil bee lefft undead if yu do not look fur him._

_Luff,_

_Teh Extuph_

"Definitely them," He muttered, and reached for the note.

There was a flash of light and he was suddenly floating into the air. The Doctor looked around and realised that he was in a spaceship. An Extuph spaceship, he presumed, because there was no artificial gravity in this particular corridor and there was "Eggzut" over the escape hatch.

"Brilliant!" He muttered, glancing down at his hands. "Temporal transporter paper thingy! Wouldn't have chosen that colour, though." He glanced around and saw a handle sticking out of the ceiling, which he immediately grasped.

"Now," he said, reaching for the next handle. "To business."

* * *

Billie was sitting in the driver's seat of her car. She was about to start it when her cell phone rang.

She whipped it out of her pocket and said, "Yeah?"

"Hey, Billie?" It was John. "I just realized something."

"What?"

"David…he broke into the car."

"I know, I was there."

"No. He broke into it. And used the sonic screwdriver."

Something clicked into place in Billie's mind. "Oh my god," she muttered. "So…he was serious?"

"Yes. Apparently we actually are alien clones and the Earth is about to be taken over by a group of talking compost piles."

"We've got to get over to David's flat!" Billie exclaimed. "I'll meet you over there in ten minutes."

"Will do," John said. "This is weird. Never thought something like _this _would happen."

"Me neither." Billie replied, then dropped her phone and hit the gas. Realizing that the car wasn't started yet, she put the keys in the ignition, started it, _then _floored the gas pedal, immediately ramming the car into a cement wall. The airbags deployed with a small hiss.

She picked up her cell phone and called John back. "I think I need a ride."

* * *

"Listen," a desperate voice with a Scottish accent floated towards the Doctor's ears. "I don't know what you think, but it's a _television programme._ The Doctor doesn't exist. I'm an actor! I pretend!"

"Don't play with us, Doctor," Came another, raspy voice. "We know you have been hiding under the alias David Tennant. Repair the ship and you will get your screwdriver back!"

"I knew this role would get me into trouble one day." The first voice muttered. "I don't know how. I really don't."

"Repair it or you die! The entire Earth dies!"

"Technically, you can't kill a planet…" Tennant argued.

"Actually," The Doctor corrected, floating into the room. He panicked slightly as he realized that this room had artificial gravity and he was pulled to the ground, but he quickly regained his composure and continued, "You can. Course, that's just in rare cases, usually you can only kill every living thing _on _the planet, but there was this one time on one of BBC's moons, turned out it was actually alive. That was an interesting adventure, got chased down to a sushi buffet in Japan. Most _delicious_ fish I've ever tasted."

The room was your typical spaceship engine room. There were two Extuph guards and one who was shouting at a poor, dark-haired chap who was crouching at the control panel. The man at the panel glanced up and his jaw dropped. He was, incidentally, completely identical to the Doctor, the only difference being he was wearing a green t-shirt and jeans rather than the pinstripe suit and brown coat.

"Yes, I am identical, no I'm not you, yes I am here to save the planet, and no you do not need a haircut." The Doctor said quickly to the bloke he presumed was David Tennant.

David seemed awestruck. He put his hand on his forehead as if checking to see if he was running a fever, then said, "Let me guess. You're…"  
"The Doctor, yes. How did you know?" Ten completed the sentence for him.

"Nobody knows that role better than I do," David replied with a grin. Then, the grin turned to a small frown, and he continued, "'Cept for maybe Hartnell, and Troughton, and Pertwee, and Baker, and Davison, and the other Baker, and McCoy, and McGann, and Eccleston. And the writers."

"Writers are telepathic extraterrestrials, they know everything," The Doctor explained, then turned to the compost piles. "So, the earth _is _in danger?"

"Yes," Hissed the Extuph. "I mean no. I mean…"

"Right," The Doctor interrupted, then reached forward and plucked the sonic screwdriver from the leader's fingers. "Yoink!" he chirped, then grabbed Tennant by the shirt collar and started running.


	9. Vaporized

The Doctor spun around behind a corner, flinging David into a wall

The Doctor spun around behind a corner, flinging David into a wall. The actor quickly recovered and dusted himself off.

He grinned at his sonic screwdriver, then realized…

"Plastic?" He muttered, studying it. Then, he tilted his head back and groaned. "Ohh, no! I had it all along! How could I not have remembered that?" He took the real screwdriver out of his pocket and looked at it at it. "I used it to steal the car, how could I not have noticed? And where did I get this?" He held up the plastic one, comparing it to the real one. He must have snatched the fake off a booth at the convention. Or, it had leapt into his pockets. Things had a habit of doing that.

He put the genuine screwdriver in his pocket and ran his fingers through his hair. He supposed it wasn't all bad…if he'd never gotten the plastic one, then the Extuph never would have tipped him off to the fact that they were going to destroy the planet.

"Oi," Tennant said, reaching for the fake. "Give that here. I've wanted one of these for ages, never really got the chance to buy one."

"What is it? Besides a cheap knock-off, that is."

David shrugged. "A pen."

The Doctor peered at his identical clone. "Why are you so calm about this? Usually people go mad when they run into someone identical to them," he pointed out.

"Hasn't quite sunk in yet." The actor replied, twirling the plastic screwdriver. Just wait a bit." He looked at his clone intently, glanced around the spaceship, and then did a double take.

"Ah," the Doctor said, with a knowing nod, "Here it comes."

David continued to look incredulously at his identical. He stuck out his tongue, as if testing that it wasn't some sort of mirror trick.

Ten raised his eyebrows quizzically.

"Blimey," Tennant gasped. "You really are the Doctor."

"Yes, hello, pleased to meet you," he chirped, waving. A sudden noise caught his attention and he turned to look around the corner.

"They're coming this way." He announced, and turned around to push the actor in the other direction. "Go, go, go."

* * *

Billie and John stood inside the doorway to David's flat, both wondering the same thing.

"So…where are we supposed to start?" Billie asked, voicing what they were both thinking.

"I dunno, but the place can't be that big." John replied, then grunted and pointed towards the ground. "There! The trail of knocked over evidence cards!"

Billie glanced down and saw that John was right. There was a distinct path of evidence cards that had been pushed over, leading down the corridor and into a door on the left.

"Knowing him, he probably hopped around them." She said. "Why aren't they standing up?"

She looked at John, and they both said the same thing at the exact same time:

"The coat."

John stepped forward, careful not to cause any more damage to the crime scene than was already done, and followed the stand-up card road to David's bedroom. He slipped inside, Billie close behind.

"Well, this is weird," He commented, glancing around. "We're in David Tennant's bedroom." He snickered slightly.

"Not to mention, the slash writers will have a heyday if they see you in here," Billie warned. "We've gotta go fast."

"Where could he have gone from here?" John thought aloud, and then noticed there was a smoking crater beside the bed.

Billie gasped with shock. "Oh my god," She breathed. "He's been vaporized!"

John rolled his eyes and took the note off the bed to read it. Suddenly, he vanished with a poof of smoke, leaving a second smoking crater beside the bed.

Billie stood gaping at the spot where her fellow thespian had been, mouth open. Her eye twitched a bit. _David...and John...vaporized..._

Finally, she got up the nerve and moved to read the note. She expected to be vaporized: instead, she ended up floating in an Extuph spaceship with nine compost guns pointed at her head.

"Let's not be hasty, now," She said with a nervous laugh.


	10. The Plan

Here we are. We're definitely getting towards the end, here...in case you haven't noticed, I've loosened up a bit on the humor and I hope it's still what you hoped it to be. Anyway, here's the next chapter!

-T.L.

* * *

David's shoes slipped on the smooth floor as he and his counterpart sprinted around a corner into a no-gravity zone. His loss of traction caused him to float up and forward at a weird angle and he hit the ceiling upside-down, a great distance behind the Doctor.

"Hey! Hey Doctor!" he called, trying to get a grip so he could catch up. He paused a moment, furrowing his brow. "Blimey, that sounded weird." He muttered to himself, then continued scrabbling at his shoelaces in attempt to reach the handles.

The Doctor glanced back, frowned, and questioned, "What are you doing all the way back there?"

David grinned and was about to reach the ceiling when something that felt like a lead-filled football collided with his spine. The air was forced from his lungs and he went flying forward, crashing into the Doctor, who lost his grip on the handle he was holding. Both went spinning out of control, until a wall abruptly halted their insane motion.

The Doctor regained his bearing enough to see an Extuph soldier holding a compost gun at his head.

Ten grinned amicably. "Oh, hello then! You wouldn't happen to be here to let us go, would you?"

The soldier grunted and poked him with the barrel of the compost gun.

David, who was dangling at an odd angle from several loose wires and bits of metal, glanced at him. "Guess not," he said, wincing at the sore spot where the blob of compost had hit him.

The Doctor stumbled as the soldier pushed him roughly into a gravitised holding cell. "No need to be so rough," He grumbled, righting himself and straightening his tie. David was thrown in behind him.

"What now?" David asked as he stood up, picking bits of dead leaves and other pieces of rotting plant off his shirt. "How do we get out of here?"

"Dunno," The Doctor breathed, running his fingers through his unkempt hair. "They took my coat…if I still had my screwdriver, it'd be a snap."

"But you don't have your screwdriver," David pointed out, exasperated. "And...I hadn't noticed you were wearing your coat over your pyjamas."

"They're ought to come back eventually," The Doctor thought aloud, ignoring the pyjamas comment, "Cos they need me to repair their ship…" He let his voice trail off. He was obviously thinking.

"Wait a minute," David said, an idea making his eyes light up. "They're going to come and get you out, right?"

"Right," The Doctor agreed, starting to understand.

"And you know how to get out of here on your own, right?" David continued, with a smile. "So…if we're both gonna get out of here _and _save the world, you can't repair their ship. So, the only way we can avoid that…"

Ten's eyes glinted with sudden understanding and a wide grin split his features. "Yes, _oh _yes! David Tennant, you are brilliant!"

David mimicked the expression with ease and effortlessly imitated the Doctor's accent. "Oh, I know."

* * *

Billie coughed at the putrid smell of the Extuph guards as they shoved her into a holding cell. John shouted something that would make any toddler cry and face planted into the ground beside her.

"Way to treat your guests!" He yelled back at them as the door slammed shut. He got onto his feet and wheeled around, but his rage was immediately stifled by the sight of two identical David Tennants in the cell across from him.

"There…there are two…" He stuttered, then glanced at Billie. "Billie! There are two!"

"John!" one of the Davids in the other cell cried gleefully.

"Jack!" cried the other one, just as cheerfully and at the exact same time.

John continued to gape at the two identicals.

Billie stared with him. "I guess…I guess he wasn't kidding when he told us about the clones…" she choked.

Both Davids grinned at her.

"So," John said, shaking off the shock and trying to seem authoritative. "You two got a plan to get us out of here?"

One of the Davids, the one who wasn't in pajamas, held back a smile.

The one who was wearing the pajamas said, "Oh, I always have a plan."

The door swung open and two Extuph soldiers slithered in. They pointed their compost guns at the one in the pajamas and grunted, "You. Come with us."

He stopped grinning at the sight of the compost gun and stepped through the door, suddenly very serious. The compost pile started to prod him through the door, but he whirled and demanded, "I need my coat. I've got my tools inside it."

The soldier scowled and pushed him out the door.

The David in the t-shirt watched them leave, then immediately took a sonic screwdriver out of his pocket.

"David," Billie said cautiously, "What is going on?"

"Long story," he replied, then to everyone's dismay dismantled the bottom part of the sonic screwdriver.

"Please don't tell me that's the real thing," John groaned.

"It isn't," he replied, holding it up so they could see it. It was a sonic screwdriver pen. Then, he reached around the bars and put the pointy end of the ballpoint pen into the lock. He wriggled it around a bit, obviously concentrating.

"Whoa," Billie breathed. "Where did you learn to pick locks?"

"Black market of Kartichon 3," he explained absently, his Scottish accent slipping completely for a moment. "Circumstance similar to this, actually." The lock popped open and the door swung wide. He stepped out of the cell with a grin and approached their cell, quickly opening their lock.

They stood staring at him for a moment, before his voice broke into their thoughts. "Don't just stand there, let's go save the world!"


	11. Just repairs

"Imbecile!" the Extuph leader shouted. "You're an imbecile! I said I wanted _tea _with _sugar _and a bit of _milk, _not water soaked with plants mixed with sucrose and drippings of cow!"

The automated food replicator machine said nothing.

"Look at me when I speak to you!" the compost pile bellowed, brandishing a wooden mallet at the object. He was distracted, briefly, by two of his soldiers coming in, pushing a slender man in pajamas and a brown coat ahead of him.

"Why you interrupt me? I told you never to interrupt me when I'm punishing crew members." The leader snapped. "This better be good."

"We got him," one of the soldiers rasped, seeming unfazed by his leader's outburst.

The leader smiled, flashing rows of wood chips for teeth. It spat to the replicator, "I deal with you later," then turned to the stranger with a welcoming, but sarcastic, grin. "Ah, so you came back! Going to repair our ship this time?"  
"Yeah," he said with a cold smile. "As long as you promise to leave this planet and never come back."

"Yes, yes, yes," It said hastily. "We leave once you fix the ship."

"Swear you won't destroy the planet once I repair your cruiser?"  
The leader hesitated, then shrugged, "No."

The man in the pajamas sighed, about to refuse, then remembered the plan he and his counterpart had come up with. Hoping his identical had made it out okay, he nodded cheerily and said, "All right, just give me a look at your sensors and I'll see what I can do."

The leader indicated a panel behind it. He watched his prisoner stride confidently forward and scrutinize the readings.

"Cor," he breathed, glancing up. "Very complicated drive you've got here, much beyond the mental capacity of your lot. No offense." He grinned at the now-scowling leader. "No wonder it went wrong. Who'd you steal the engines off of? Sontarons? Writers?"

"Writers," the Extuph growled.

"Ah, that explains it," he said, nodding wisely. "Most species would have trouble with their drives. Too random, mish mash. Most their technology works just like their minds…completely impossible to understand. Only the Psychologists of Langorl can possibly comprehend it. Well, them and Time Lords, but there aren't many of them left these days."

"Isn't that a bit count…counter….count-er produc-tive? If the writers hafta rely on psy-col-o-jists?" one of the soldiers asked.

"Shut up!" Shouted the leader.

"Yes, that's why it's so brilliant!" their prisoner grinned, ignoring the leader. He pretended not to hear a gigantic crash from elsewhere in the ship.

"Whazzat?" The leader demanded.

"Nothing, just some repairs," he chirped, and continued waving his sonic screwdriver over the panel.

There was another crash. The floor shook.

The leader started to sound panicky. "What are you doing?" it cried.

"Repairs," he insisted, then glanced back over his shoulder, nervously.

There was another crash and the alarms started going off.

"Kill him! Kill him quick, before he does anything else!" The leader sobbed.

He turned around, eyes sparkling with fear, as the soldiers came forward with their compost guns. He wasn't looking forward to suffocating under piles of rotting plant.

Suddenly, both soldiers were knocked aside by what looked like flying chunks of dirt. He looked to where they had come from and saw John and Billie, both holding huge compost bazookas and with his counterpart running ahead of them to assist him.

"About time!" the one in the pajamas said, grinning.

"Sorry," said the other. "Getting the compost bazookas was a bit of a trick, not to mention disabling the central drive was considerably more challenging in zero gravity, with nothing but a pen to do it with." He ran his fingers through his unkempt hair, a typical Doctor gesture.

John glanced back and forth between the two, lowering the gun. "Sorry, I'm getting mixed messages here. Who's who?"

Both of them waved and said simultaneously, "I'm the Doctor."

The one in the t-shirt glared at the other. "Bit of a character complex there, David."

"Sorry," Apologised the other, not releasing the character quite yet. "'s the costume. Though I'm not used to pajamas. "

The Extuph leader cleared its throat, interrupting their conversation.

"Yes?" the Doctor said irritably, self-consciously reaching to stick his hands in the coat pockets that weren't there. He was, after all, wearing David's clothes.

"You just destroyed my ship." It pointed out.

"Yes, we're aware. Anything else?"

The leader sighed irritably. "Now we'll _have _to destroy the Earth."

"Can't," David grinned. "My friend here destroyed your weapons _and _your engines, so you're stuck _and _defenseless."

The leader bellowed with rage and shouted to its soldiers, "Get them! Kill them dead!"

One of the soldiers didn't respond: it was unconscious. The other was upright, looking dazed and rubbing its head. When its leader spoke, it looked up. "Hm? What now?"

"I said kill them!"

The soldier considered this order, then said, "Naah. Not if they're gonna shoot me 'gain." It shrugged sheepishly, and continued, "I'm going for some coffee. If you wanna come…"

"No!" The leader shouted. "No, I do _not _want to get some coffee! Get out!"

"Yeah, sure, whatever." The soldier grumbled, and slithered off towards the lounge.

The leader scowled, then turned towards the humanoids. "I suppose I'll have to deal with you myself!"

Billie stepped backwards involuntarily at the sight of the gigantic pile of rancid matter lunging at her, but John just sighed, raised his gun, and released several rounds upon the leader. Its direction was changed by the sudden impact and it went sprawling across the room, landing unconscious at the far wall.

"Let's get out of here," The Doctor said, glancing around.

"Aren't they still a threat?" Billie asked, checking to make sure there were no more soldiers.

"No," he replied, "Eventually they'll go mad and kill each other off."

"Huh?"

"They're piles of compost. The smell is enough to drive anyone mad." The Doctor shrugged sadly. "There's nothing we could have done about that. Woulda happened anyway."

"What about the ship?" John asked, throwing the compost gun aside.

"It'll just float out here till the writers come out to salvage it. They'll probably use it as a prop in some film later on." He tried to put his hands in the coat pockets again, then grunted in frustration when he realized they weren't there. "David, suppose I could have my clothes back?"

"Sure," the actor agreed, then took off the jacket.

Billie glanced away. "Please. Not here, you two."

The Doctor and David grinned identical grins and John rolled his eyes.

"Right," the Doctor said, with a resolute nod. "Time to be getting back." He held out his hand towards David, who looked at it confusedly.

"Screwdriver," the Doctor whispered, and his counterpart smiled sheepishly as he put the device in the proffered hand.

The Time Lord spun around, changed the screwdriver to setting twenty-seven, and pressed it against the control panel. "Here we are," He grunted, pressed a button, and they all vanished into thin air.

* * *

Sorry if this chapter got at all confusing…would you let me know if it did? Thanks.

-T.L. AKA Pax


	12. Fin

The four had ended up beaming down right in front of the office where the Doctor had first woken up

The four had ended up beaming down right in front of the office where the Doctor had first woken up. After getting their bearings and hiding from the general public as soon as possible, they finally had a chance to talk about what had transpired and get everyone into the right outfits.

"I still don't get it." Billie said. "Why did you two switch clothes?"

"Well, we're identical," Began David.

"And I couldn't have possibly gotten away or disabled their ship once they brought me up to the bridge." The Doctor continued for him. "Nor could David here have escaped the holding cell. So, we switched, so that I could sabotage the ship without being caught on the bridge with no one able to rescue me, and David would be up on the bridge as a distraction." He grinned. "Simple, really."

John exhaled deeply, obviously a bit stressed. "You don't even _know _how much this messes with my perception of reality," He said, glaring at the Doctor. "You're not supposed to exist."  
"Yeah, I get that a lot," he replied cheerily. Then, he glanced at the sky and saw where the sun was. "Well," he sighed, looking back down at the three actors, "Time I'll be getting back." He took his screwdriver out of his pocket and adjusted the setting, then pressed it against the TARDIS key, which he was also holding. There was a sudden flash of light that escaped from the key, and the grating sound of the TARDIS was heard.

"What'd you do?" Billie asked.

"Called it with a temporal blast. Sort of like a dog whistle." The Doctor breathed.

The sound of the TARDIS got louder and a blue box could be seen materializing.

David shook his head in astonishment. The sound was familiar to him, but he never thought he'd hear it actually coming from a time capsule.

The TARDIS had finished coming and the Doctor stepped forward with his key, unlocked the door, and opened it. He turned around to beam at them, blocking a tantalizing view of the inside. "You were all brilliant," he grinned.

"Thanks," John replied with a smile. "See you later?"

"…m-yeah," The Doctor replied after a short pause. "Never know with me, do you?" He waved cheerily, slipped inside, and the door swung shut behind him. The sound like a great pair of bellows surrounded them.

The three watched the TARDIS disappear, when Billie muttered, "I think I'm going to go see a psychologist," She whirled on her heel and left.

"Me too," John breathed, and followed quickly.

David lingered a minute, watching the place where the TARDIS had just been. He was about to follow John and Billie when the sound of the time capsule returned to his ears.

He swung around to see the ship materializing again. The door swung open and the Doctor leaned out.

"Sorry," he said, but didn't sound particularly apologetic. "I forgot to ask you. How did you know about the Psychologists of Langorl?"

"What do you mean?" David laughed. "I was just making that up."

"You're a very lucky bloke, then," Ten beamed. "Cos you were right." He leaned against the doorframe, and then continued, "Another thing."

David mimicked the action perfectly by leaning against a wall. "What?"

The Doctor hesitated, considering, then said, "I'm not traveling with anyone right now. Want to come for a quick ride?" He suddenly turned stern. "Just one, mind you. Don't want to keep you too long."

David blinked incredulously, and was about to agree, before he stopped and thought twice about it. "No," he finally said. "Can't. Got things to do here. Episodes to film, fans to impress."

"You sure?" The Doctor said cautiously. "Forty years from now, won't you want to look back on your life and say you were able to get into the police box?"

* * *

The very next day, Russell T. Davies was in a rush. After getting the deal with the stolen car sorted out (they'd found it in front of Tennant's flat for some reason) he had to deal with the problem of the missing star. They were supposed to be filming that very day.

"Right," he said, addressing one of the camera operators. "We wait another half hour, then we shoot without him."

"How do we shoot without him?" the camera operator asked. "Use a window dummy?"

"No," Davies snapped, a sudden horror in his eyes. "No window dummies."

The cameraman sighed and continued, "And he's probably not going to be here within the next thirty minutes anyway, seeing as he's been kidnapped. What, you expect him to suddenly show up, all cleaned up and ready for filming."

Davies had no response for him, but he didn't need one. David Tennant suddenly rushed in, looking expressively battered and covered in an unidentifiable green glop.

"Huh." The cameraman thought aloud. "I was half right."

"David!" Davies cried, ignoring the operator. "What happened to you?"

"Nothing much," the actor panted, dusting the glop off his arms. "But I'm never seeing puppies in the same way again."

FIN


End file.
